


100% natural

by lavendrsblue



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dogs, M/M, Meet-Cute, also there is a small child, daichi is farmers market hot, support local beekeepers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 16:42:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5633779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavendrsblue/pseuds/lavendrsblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sugawara Koushi is not a dog owner—nor a frequenter of outdoor markets, nor a babysitter (often)—but he'll do whatever it takes to see Sawamura Daichi again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	100% natural

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kneedeepsnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kneedeepsnow/gifts).



> happy new year, samantha kate. i hope you enjoy this gay mess

Suga is in panic mode.

He'd let go of his niece for just a few seconds—literally less than a minute—to reach for his wallet to pay for pork buns (which _she_ had requested). When he looked down to take hold of her small hand again, she was gone.

He should have known the second he stopped hearing her constant stream of _what's that, what's that,_ which she'd kept up since they arrived at the outdoor market nearly an hour ago. Now as he stands on his toes searching for one tiny person in a sea of normal-sized ones, he racks his brain: where would a seven-year-old run off to, in a place like this?

Five minutes of frantic searching pass with no luck. Suga stares along a row of vendors’ stalls, calculating. _How angry will these people be if I climb onto their tables?_ The table closest to him is manned by a grumpy-looking woman, and the next by a teenager texting furiously and ignoring the potential customers hovering nearby. He probably wouldn’t care if Suga just...casually stood on the table. Probably. It’s worth a shot.

As he’s edging through the crowd, making for the table, a garish yellow banner nudges the edge of his periphery as it flaps in the breeze. Suga makes a face at the words emblazoned in bold black lettering: _ORGANIC HONEY!_

But the mild eye strain is worth it for the next thing that catches his eye: a bit of bright pink fabric the same color as his niece’s dress, sticking out around the edge of the sign. _Aha_ , thinks Suga, and makes his way over as fast as he can, shouldering between shoppers with hurried apologies.

As he nears, the man working the table calls out something like, “Support local beekeepers!” Suga ignores him, as he’s busy grabbing his niece’s shoulder.

“Miki!”

She turns and smiles up at him sunnily, unworried. “Oniisan, look! I found a dog.”

The shiba she’s petting barks at him for emphasis before jumping up and nearly knocking her over. She’s unfazed, giggling with delight as it licks her face. He should have known, Suga thinks again with resignation. (Miki is in her Dog Phase. The phenomenon is not something Suga himself ever experienced, but he’s around enough children that it’s familiar nonetheless.)

He sighs, steeling himself for a lecture. “Miki...”

“Excuse me,” says a voice behind him. “Is she yours?”

Suga turns, still crouching to child-height, and finds himself staring at a pair of jeans-clad knees. He cranes his neck and looks up, up, past a flannel shirt and broad shoulders to meet the gaze of…the Support Local Beekeepers man.

That is, the _very_ attractive Support Local Beekeepers man.

“Ah,” says Suga intelligently. There’s a polite smile on the man’s face, and the curve of his mouth is, distracting. “I’m. Yes! Yes, she is mine. I mean, she’s not _mine_ , she’s my niece. But, yes.”

“That’s good,” says beekeeper man, smiling wider. His jawline is absurdly sharp. “I saw her run up a few minutes ago, but I didn’t see anyone with her. I was hoping you’d show up soon.”

Suga realizes then he’s still kneeling, so he clambers to his feet to bow. “Thank you for taking care of her…?” He trails off, glancing up expectantly.

“Sawamura,” the man supplies. “Sawamura Daichi. And it’s no trouble, really.” There’s a flush over his cheeks as he responds—or is that just wishful thinking? “And you are?”

“Sugawara Koushi. But just Suga is fine,” he adds hastily. “Sorry to inconvenience you. I should’ve been looking after my niece more closely. I’m still not used to these crowds, I’ve only been here a few times…” He’s rambling, he knows it, and so he trails off with a cough.

“Really?” Sawamura’s gaze flicks up and down Suga, as if he’s comparing him against a mental catalog of everyone at the market. Suga’s cheeks warm at the attention. “Have we met before?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Hm. I thought we must have, but I guess not. I think I would have remembered you.”

Suga is definitely feeling warmer now.

Sawamura looks almost surprised at his own words, but he doesn’t move to take them back. For a moment Suga pauses to thank whatever deity is listening; maybe he will finally be free of the desert of singleness he’s been wandering for the past eight months.

But this is only a chance meeting. Suga’s never at the market on Sunday mornings; he’s only ever been on Saturdays, his days off. He’ll probably never see this (beautiful) man again. Unless, perhaps, the universe is particularly kind, and Suga can swap shifts with someone at the bookstore to free up his Sundays… What is he doing? It’s been less than ten minutes since he met this person. This is ridiculous, he tells himself sternly. _Get a grip, Sugawara_.

Belatedly he realizes he’s kind of been staring semi-weirdly at Sawamura for a good few seconds while this train of thought has derailed—but Sawamura has also been staring semi-weirdly at him, so. Suga smiles to dispel the awkwardness; it’s the best method he knows and it works like a charm, prompting Sawamura to smile and say, “So, will I see you again?”

That’s what Suga imagines he would’ve said, because one of Sawamura’s coworkers pops up to shout at him. “Sawamura! Can you help with this delivery?” And he and Suga both jump.

“Sure,” he calls over his shoulder, and turns back to Suga with an apologetic tilt to his shoulders. “I should get back to work.”

“You can count this as work if you sell me something,” says Suga, only halfway teasing. (Distantly he hopes Sawamura will be called away again, so he’ll turn and Suga can check if the definition evident in his shoulders extends to...the rest of him.)

“You’re right,” says Sawamura, brightening. “Would you like to buy some honey? It’s locally harvested.”

Oh.

It would be _so_ rude to refuse the offer, especially after Suga was the one to suggest it (thoughtlessly). “Actually…”

“It’s good for allergies, too,” Sawamura adds cheerfully.

“Allergies. Right.” Suga forces a laugh. “Sure, I’ll take some.”

“Great.” Sawamura smiles—Suga’s heart skips a beat—and busies himself with something behind the table. A moment later he hands over a paper bag with a homemade bumblebee stamp printed on it.

“Thanks,” Suga says weakly, accepting the bag. He looks up from his wallet to find Sawamura with a crease in his brow, concerned, or maybe disappointed, so he hastens to dissipate the awkwardness. “Honey’s my favorite,” he manages, and gives his best smile. It’s powerful and Suga knows it, he’s been perfecting it for twenty-two years running. Sure enough, a faint blush appears over Sawamura’s cheeks, and he glances down and away, clearing his throat. Suga allows himself a moment of small triumph. Not that this is a competition to see who can fluster the other more (Suga is definitely losing that, anyway), but it’s a satisfying feeling, knowing someone is attracted to you.

But before Sawamura can respond, there’s a tug on the hem of Suga’s shirt. Miki frowns up at him, round face scrunched in confusion.

“Oniisan, you can’t eat that.”

“Of course I can,” he laughs, darting a glance at Sawamura, who’s looking between them curiously. “I can eat whatever I want, that’s the best part of being grown-up.”

“But Okaasan said you’re allergic—”

“OH, LOOK AT THE TIME,” says Suga, glancing at his wrist and grabbing Miki’s hand. “Thank you for looking after my niece, and for the honey—” he drops into a quick bow, straightens to find a wide-eyed Sawamura staring at him, flustered— “but we have to leave. I hope to see you again. Uh, soon! Maybe.” And then he power-walks away, Miki jogging to keep up with his strides.

“Oniisan,” she says again later. “Why did we have to run away from the dog?” She’s halfway through her ice cream: chocolate with sprinkles, her favorite. Initially Suga hadn’t wanted to reward her for running off in a crowd, but, well. He’d met Sawamura because of it, hadn’t he?

“We weren’t running away from the dog.”

“Then what was it?” Miki kicks her feet over the side of their bench as she eats, unconcerned.

Best to tell the truth to children, Suga thinks—they’ll absorb that knowledge and carry it with them for a long time. “I was embarrassed,” he says, and takes another bite of his own ice cream.

“Because you can’t eat honey?”

“Sort of.”

“Why?”

Suga sighs. “I forgot I can’t eat it.”

“But why?”

He bites back a laugh at her questions. “I was busy talking to that man, I guess.” Miki opens her mouth, most likely to ask _why!_ again, so he continues before she can waste her breath. “You’ll understand why when you’re older, I think.”

She frowns at the response, but two seconds later she’s forgotten her question in favor of a new one, and then gets distracted by a stray cat. Typical, but entertaining nonetheless.

Later, as they leave the market—Suga carefully avoids the honey booth, he doesn’t have the strength to face Sawamura again today—Miki swings his hand where it’s linked in hers, and Suga plots.

He _needs_ to see Sawamura Daichi again. (His memory supplies the resonance of Sawamura’s voice; Suga definitely does not relish the tiny shiver that runs down the back of his neck.) He can’t go back today, though. It feels a little wrong to try and pick someone up while his seven-year-old niece is still in tow.

But that’s okay, he thinks cheerfully as he starts his walk home, after he drops Miki at his sister’s house. There’s a market every weekend, and the bright yellow banner on Sawamura’s booth is impossible to miss. Suga will just…happen to find himself at the market again next weekend, as plenty of people do. (Historically Suga has not been one of these people, but that’s irrelevant.) Perfectly casual, completely natural. Easy.

 

* * *

 

 

Next week, Sawamura isn’t there. Suga squints across the street at the tall, freckled kid manning the honey booth and sighs. He’d specifically shown up around the same time as the previous week, hoping Sawamura would take the same shift, but Suga’s been loitering for a good half hour now with no sign of him.

But this is no reason to get discouraged. Maybe Sawamura caught a bad cold or something and took the weekend off. Next week he’ll try again!

Except next week _Suga_ gets sick. And the weekend after that is a holiday and half of Japan decides to show up at the market, so when Suga finally manages to squeeze over to the honey booth Sawamura is already helping someone else.

By the time weekend number four rolls around, Suga is desperate.

“I need to borrow your dog,” he says, slumped dramatically over one of Nishinoya’s mother’s kitchen chairs to convey extra pathos. Noya tilts his head to one side.

“Why?”

Suga scrunches his nose. “Does it matter?”

He would tell Noya about the plan—really, he would, they’re good friends and Suga trusts him with most things—but he knows that Noya will latch onto the idea and blow it up into a full-fledged _plan_ , and it’s not that big a deal. It’s just...landing a date with one of the most beautiful people Suga’s ever met in his life. (Or at least, within the last year or ten.)

But Noya fixes him with that _look_ he gets, the super-intense wide-eyed one, and Suga has to give in. “I’m using her to meet someone. Well, to meet him again, I guess.”

Noya throws back his head and cackles, and Suga slaps a hand to his face.

“Noya!”

“Yeah, yeah, you can have her,” he says, after he’s calmed down a bit. Suga pouts. His situation is borderline ridiculous, but it’s not _that_ bad. It’s no worse than some spots Noya’s found himself in, anyway, and they both know it. “When do you want her?”

“Sunday morning.”

“Done.” Noya hops down from his perch on the kitchen counter, his little bleached tuft of hair bobbing. “Let’s get you laid, Suga.”

Suga puts his head in his arms and groans, and Noya laughs again.

“Come on, it’ll be great! I can give you her leash and everything. Oh, hey—” Suga looks up at the change in tone to find that Noya has sobered. “If you’re going to be around a crowd with her, you better watch out. She’s pretty strong.” There’s something Suga’s never seen before; _Nishinoya_ and _cautious_ are not two words he’s ever thought in sequence, unless there’s a _not_ between them.

But Suga, buoyed by success, waves an airy hand. “I’m no weakling. I’ll be fine!”

 

* * *

 

Suga is _not_ fine.

Noya’s dog—though he can hardly call her a dog, she’s more like a small, fluffy horse—has nearly yanked him off his feet three times in the thirty minutes they’ve been at the market. The first time, she’d seen another dog and beelined for it, somewhat understandably. The other times she’d bolted toward _absolutely nothing_ , leaving Suga tripping over his own feet sprinting to keep up.

So now he’s got an iron grip on the dog’s leash, regretting his life choices and hoping the circulation in his hands isn’t too affected. Sawamura is definitely attractive enough to merit enduring half an hour of dog-related suffering, but if Suga doesn’t see him within the next two minutes, he’s giving up. His life expectancy is more important than getting Sawamura’s number. (He suspects that if he gets too close to the main road, Noya’s dog will drag him straight into oncoming traffic chasing a butterfly or something.)

He pauses in the shade to catch his breath, leaving the leash hooked around the leg of a bench. Surely this dog can’t break free from a concrete slab. Right?

He takes the opportunity to scan the crowd again in case he’d missed Sawamura when he’d passed the honey booth, where the freckled guy from a few weeks ago was working again. But the universe hates him, apparently: there’s no sign of Sawamura. It’s tempting to give up and leave right away, but it’s actually a perfect day for an open-air market, cloudless and pleasantly warm. Maybe he’ll wander for a few minutes, get some weird organic food for Noya as a thank-you for borrowing his dog, even though the venture was unsuccessful.

He’s just bending to unwind the leash from the bench when he hears a voice close by. “That’s a beautiful dog,” says a man, somewhere behind him.

“Thanks,” says Suga sadly, trying to keep the exertion from his voice as he turns. “She’s—”

Sawamura Daichi stands before him, hands in his pockets, a smile on his lips. Suga gapes, leash forgotten. There’s the faintest sheen of sweat on Sawamura’s forehead in the midmorning warmth—is he more tan than Suga remembers?—and one side of his mouth pulls higher than the other when he smiles, and wow, Suga is _so gay_.

“Sugawara-san,” says Sawamura. He still has that smile on his face, so it takes Suga another moment to regain the capacity for speech.

“Hi!” Hopefully Sawamura will think Suga is just easily startled or something, instead of tongue-tied at his appalling good looks. “Sawamura-san, what a surprise! I didn’t think I’d see you here again.”

“Neither did I.” Has Sawamura been _thinking about him?_ “And just Daichi is fine.”

 _Daichi_. Suga’s heart hammers. Distantly, he finally understands how Yachi was always so flustered around Kiyoko for the first six months they knew each other. “Then you should call me Suga.”

“Okay. Suga.”

“Daichi.”

Noya’s dog whines and nudges Suga’s leg, but Daichi is smiling at him and Suga can’t look away, and how long have they been staring at each other, is this normal? Is this a normal amount of eye contact? It probably is. Just in case, Suga clears his throat to give himself an excuse to look away (reluctantly). His face is burning, but it’s not from leftover exertion. He needs to say something.

“It’s such a nice day,” he blurts. “For…a jog.” Very original.

“It is,” agrees Daichi, glancing up and down the market thoroughfare. If Suga hadn’t been so busy sprinting after Noya’s dog, he might have taken a minute to appreciate the way the clouds are puffed just so, or how the morning sunlight filters through the branches of Sendai’s tree-lined streets, dappling the cement with shade. “It’s a good day to walk your dog.” He reaches down to ruffle the dog’s head. “Though this one seems like she might be…a handful.”

Suga laughs a little too loudly. Had Daichi seen him nearly get yanked off his feet earlier? His palms are still stinging a little from friction burns. “Yeah, you could say that. I’m not used to walking her.”

“Really?”

“Oh, I’m not the one who usually takes her out,” he says quickly. “Since I’m…busy. Really busy. With work, and things.” He gestures vaguely at the surrounding area. “Usually I’m holed up indoors all day, so fresh air is nice, when I can get it. You know…walking around. With the dog.”

“I’m the same way,” says Daichi. Either he doesn’t realize how much Suga is rambling, or politely chooses not to comment on it. “I’m only here on weekends.”

“You’re not working today, though,” says Suga without thinking. “I mean—I didn’t see you, earlier. Over there.” He gestures in the general direction of the _Organic Honey!_ booth.

“Yeah, today I’m only here for a few minutes. I just have to help restock.”

“Mm. Are you doing anything after?”

“No,” says Daichi. “My whole day’s free.” Suga’s heart speeds up, which really doesn’t help the blushing situation.

“So’s mine.” The air hangs heavy as Suga pauses, hoping Daichi will say something so he doesn’t have to. No luck here: Daichi is looking at him with this funny expression. Suga could almost call it _hopeful_ , if he’s being generous. Noya’s dog nudges him and whines, as if to say, _hurry up already!_ So Suga clears his throat— _just say it, Sugawara, you’ve done this before_ —and jumps. “Do you want to kill a bit of time, then?” Wait, too vague. “With me. Not just…in general.”

Great. So smooth. So eloquent.

Surprise flickers across Daichi’s expression, maybe at being asked out so plainly, or maybe he’s just shocked that Suga’s such an idiot. Except then he says, “Yeah, I’d like that,” and Suga’s heart races for an entirely different reason.

So now he’s left with fifteen minutes to kill—Daichi said his delivery would take that long—so Suga pulls out his phone to send a text.

 _Are you home right now? Need to return your dog_.

 _WHAT HAPPENED YOU HAVE TO TELL ME EVERYTHING_ , comes Noya’s reply, several minutes later.

_Have I ever told you I love you?_

This time Noya responds instantaneously. _ARE YOU GETTING SOME!!?!_

_It’s not even lunchtime, Noya._

It’s immediately evident that this reply is too open-ended. His phone buzzes with matching reactions from Noya and Tanaka soon after—a dozen exclamation points from the former, a lewd joke about lunch from the latter. Suga rolls his eyes and silences his phone, biting back a laugh.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Daichi emerging from the crowd around the market, and shoves his phone in his pocket. His friends will have to interpret his silence however they see fit.

“That was fast,” says Suga, when he’s within earshot. “Did you actually finish, or are you skipping out?”

Daichi laughs. “It’s a slow day today, so they don’t need me much. But you can think that, if you like.” He leans down to Noya’s dog, scratching behind her ears. After a moment he lets out a low chuckle to himself, distracting Suga from where he’s admiring the lines of his back under his t-shirt.

“What’s funny?” he asks, gaze snapping back up to Daichi’s face, only a tad guilty.

“I was just thinking…” Daichi shakes his head. That lopsided smile is back on his face. “You’re going to think I’m a stalker or something.”

“I doubt that.”

“Do you remember the last time we talked, when you were with your niece and she ran off to see my dog?”

 _Of course_. “Yeah, why?”

“I have a confession.” Suga waits with his head tilted to one side, and Daichi takes a deep breath. “That wasn’t my dog. He belongs to my friend, I just borrowed him for the day.”

A nagging suspicion creeps up on Suga, but he fights to keep it at bay. “And why would you do that?”

“Well…” Daichi grins, sheepish. “I’d seen you here with her a few times before, and you were always looking at dogs, so I thought—maybe if I brought one, you’d notice. Or your niece would, I mean. And, uh, it worked.”

Several seconds pass during which Suga just sort of gapes at him.

“You’re kidding,” he says finally, just as the silence starts to verge on awkward.

“No, actually.” Daichi’s smile wavers. “Sorry, is that too weird?”

“You borrowed a dog,” says Suga.

“...Yes?” says Daichi, slowly.

“Just to get me to talk to you.”

“That’s what I just said, yeah.” His brow scrunches in confusion.

Somewhere in the distance, Suga is pretty sure he can hear Nishinoya laughing all the way on the other side of Sendai. “Oh my god,” he says.

“Okay, that was too weird,” concludes Daichi. He straightens up, starts to back away. “Sorry, I just thought it was—never mind, it’s okay—”

“No, wait! It’s okay, it’s just.” Suga covers his face with his hands, letting the leash drop to the ground. “Ah, you’re going to laugh at me.”

“Why?”

“I did the same thing,” he says into his hands. “Literally. The same thing.” It’s Daichi’s turn to stare now.

“You can’t be serious,” he says, but the corners of his mouth are twitching.

“She’s my neighbor’s,” says Suga, and he can’t help it, his laughter bubbles over. “I’ve never owned a dog in my life!” This sets Daichi off laughing, and that’s it, they’re lost to helpless giggles, drawing the stares of passersby. It feels good, he hasn’t laughed like this in a while.

“This is ridiculous,” says Daichi a minute later, after they’ve calmed down a bit.

“It is,” says Suga. “You know, I’m not sure I believe you. I’ll need the full story, I think.”

“That could take a while.”

“I’ve got time.”

He glances back at Daichi, and the other man’s smile has grown, amusement tinged with hesitation; his lower lip curves perfectly. A moment (or several) passes during which they just sort of grin at each other, still giddy from their shared realization. Suga is the first to break eye contact, looking down and away. Hopefully his face isn’t as red as it feels. “So should we get going, or are we going to stand here all day?”

Daichi laughs on an exhale. “There’s a place about ten minutes away that has great coffee.”

“Sounds good. Here, let me just…” Suga looks down to pick up the leash again, but it’s not near his feet where he’d dropped it a minute ago.

He looks up, and the dog is sprinting away, chasing a flock of pigeons as bystanders jump out of the way. They both stare at the path the dog is tearing through the market, then turn to each other simultaneously.

“It’s a nice day for a jog,” says Daichi.

“It is,” says Suga, and starts running.

**Author's Note:**

> get it, the title is a joke because they're both acting like it's natural when... it's not... and also organic food is... ok i'm hilarious, goodnight


End file.
